


Listen

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Series: Fictober 2019 [6]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23569672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Eystra teaches Muriel some new magic.
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana)
Series: Fictober 2019 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696495
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Listen

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fictober prompt: "Listen. No, really listen."

Eystra settled into the long grass beside the river, digging her toes deep into the dirt. The pine trees on the other side of the racing water shifted and sighed, breathing like living things as the wind raced through them on its endless journey through the sky. Far away over the foothills, a pair of condors circled each other, their massive wings motionless against the backdrop of blue. A paw, belonging to a sleek black wolf, rested against Eystra’s shin; its owner lay in a sleepy crescent, basking her summer coat in the sun with her head on the lap of the riverbank’s other visitor.

Muriel had shorn his hair short with the season as well, claiming in his soft voice that he wanted to be able to see her without the need to push it aside. Eystra went into town for the scissors herself, though Muriel insisted that he do the cutting. Now he sat with his legs folded in front of him, leaning back on one arm with his face tilted to the sun, scratching Inanna’s neck while she dozed, at peace, truly, for perhaps the first time since he was very, very young.

The grass spoke, a wavering, wild susurrus that lingered on the edge of Eystra’s magic, sending up beacons like floating spores to catch her attention. She smiled to herself and gently nudged Muriel’s foot with her own, getting his attention. “This place wishes to tell us something,” she said.

Inanna perked up her ears as Muriel cocked his head, asking without words what she meant.

“I do not know. Only that it seeks us both.”

“Why me?”

“You, too, are gifted in magic, dearheart.” Eystra smiled and reached for his hand. He offered it gladly in return and watched as she began to trace the pale lines of old scars absently with her thumb.

“Enough?” Muriel’s magical abilities paled in comparison to hers. He held no delusions to the contrary, despite her reassurances.

“So says the grass, and the stone and soil. Can you not hear their call?”

He closed his eyes, but nothing came to him except the distant, rasping cries of the condors. “No.”

Eystra shifted to her knees and motioned for him to do the same. “Well, then. I will show you how to listen.”

Muriel stared at her for a moment, amused. “I know how to listen,” he said, smiling faintly. “Just not to this.”

“I apologize, that was presumptuous. Would you like to learn?”

“You’re a good teacher.”

She beamed, heat rising to her cheeks. Muriel followed her lead and lifted Inanna’s head off his thigh to rise onto his folded knees.

“Right, now. Close your eyes, dearheart.” As he did, Eystra took his other hand in hers. “Do you feel the warmth in my palms?”

Muriel nodded.

“It is the same warmth that the stones feel, resting by the river, unshaded from the sun. And do you hear the wind in the trees?”

“Yes.”

“Those pine needles are the strands of your hair, and mine, and the fur on Inanna’s back. It is the same wind parting them, and if one listens, really listens, one can hear what it says. What else do you notice?”

Muriel sat silently, allowing his attention to roam. “The river. Inanna’s snoring. Some bees over by the wildflowers. Those condors.”

“That is good. Can you go deeper?”

A frown flitted across his face, but his eyes remained closed. “There's— on the other bank, there’s a turtle sunning itself. I hear it breathing. And behind you is a beetle in the grass. The trees… Eystra, the trees are singing.”

“Yes!” She squeezed his hands, laughing her windchime laugh in delight. “Oh, my sunflower, yes, they are! It is the sap you hear, and on your first try!”

“That’s good?”

“ _You_ are good, Muriel. Talented and wonderful and good.”

Muriel flushed and ducked his head, his habit of hiding behind his hair hard to break. But he didn’t pull his hands away.

“May I hug you?” Eystra asked after a moment, feeling his fingers flicker anxiously in hers.

He snapped upright to look at her, blush redoubled. The face looking back at him was pure love, pure kindness, open and soft and sweet, framed by long, straight black hair, with beautiful dark eyes he could lose himself in forever. He relaxed under her gaze and answered by pulling her close, securing her arms around his waist himself before folding his own across her back. He felt her shoulders lift and fall as she sighed happily into the embrace, exactly where she wanted to be.


End file.
